


Numbers

by thepeskyunicorn



Category: History Boys (2006)
Genre: M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeskyunicorn/pseuds/thepeskyunicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dakin still remembers the excitement that bubbles up whenever the urge to write the numbers down appeared. They were always one less than the other before, always a countdown to the mystery that will define his life. It is exciting business, soulmates, still rare enough that people consider it a miracle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A.K.A the soulmate au no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	Numbers

5840

Those were the first numbers Dakin wrote. He was two then, and age where numbers and words hold no more significance than colours and vague figure. He had wrote them down meticulously, with a look of utmost concentration and his tongue sticking out a little, on the back of his hand in shaky handwriting with a large green marker and giggled at the tiny shiver that runs up his spine afterwards.

It was a big number, full of meaning that he could not comprehend. Still, no one in his class could write a number as huge as his and his teachers certainly do not teach him that. Satisfied that he had done a Smart Thing, Dakin proudly showed it off to his teachers.

Next thing he knew, he was in the principal’s office with his mother jabbering excitedly to the headmistress. He did not know what all the fuss was about, only that whatever he did must have been very important indeed. He smiled to himself and swung his legs in happiness, pudgy fingers gently prodding the numbers, watching with interest as the ink slowly seeped into the outlines and cracks of his skin.

That night, before he went to sleep, he drowsily asked what the was with those numbers.

His mother had kissed his forehead and smoothed his hair back with a gentle smile. “Stuart, darling,” she said, “You’ve been chosen." She pulled the blanket up and turned off the bed lamp. "You’re going to find a very special someone very soon.”

‘Very soon’ had turned out to be light years away for a two year old, but the for the first time in his life, waiting didn’t seem like a chore, especially not if it were for the very special someone.

Dakin still remembers the excitement that bubbles up whenever the urge to write the numbers down appeared. They were always one less than the other before, always a countdown to the mystery that will define his life. It is exciting business, soulmates, still rare enough that people consider it a miracle.

He doesn’t feel excited now. The dull throb of exhilaration is still ever present at the back of his mind, but it is more of an ingrained response to the scribbling of the numbers at the back of his hand, big and unashamed, than a genuine anticipation of his fate. Usually, his thoughts are more often than not clouded over with anxiety and a healthy dose of cynicism. There are enough poets and historians documenting cases of tragic soul mates that he feels only wariness at the prospect of meeting his.

He curls his hand to his fist and cradles it close to his chest, watching the numbers stretch. Today, it is written in black; blocky and fat, a single digit now. 7. Exactly one week to go. 

“D’you think -” he catches himself before he gives his insecurity away. Rolling his shoulders back, he tries again, this time with false cockiness. “D’you think he’ll be as good looking as I am?”

Scripps, with the patience of a man who had dealt with enough ego from Dakin to last several lifetimes, rolls his eyes and continues writing. “At the rate you’re going, you might as well just call it off and declare yourself your one true love.” He peers up at Dakin sitting at the edge of the table glaring balefully at his numbers. “Cheer up. They’re your soulmate. It’ll be fine.”

Dakin makes a frustrated sound and swung off the table. “Yes, obviously, but there’s always a possibility.” He sweeps his papers into his satchel and sighs dramatically. “I just wish it would be simpler." He clasps the bag shut and arched an eyebrow at Scripps. "Like you and Pos."

Scripps, to his credit, blushes and looks affronted. “Are we fuck? You might want to get your eyes checked mate.” 

“Maybe you should be the one getting your eyes checked. I caught you stealing a look at his arse just yesterday."

Dakin ducks, sniggering, as Scripps threw his copy of Hardy at him. He swings his bag over his shoulder and set off to the next class, feeling slightly better. It doesn’t take his mind off the matter entirely, but at least he feels less anxious about it.

*

It isn’t everyday that you get to meet your soulmate for the first time with your trousers down.

He wakes to an ominously sunny day with the familiar urge making his fingers prickle and twitch. Today is the day, Dakin thinks as he draws a giant zero at the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, relishing the itch under his skin intensify and ebb away. I probably shouldn’t feel like throwing up.

He goes through the day as per normal, avoiding the knowing looks on his classmate’s faces, responding with a tight smile to Scripps’s concerned question and scowling at Lockwood’s crude jokes. There is an unbidden anticipation rising in him, one that he could not quell, and the nervous energy is what made him spring up to volunteer in Hector's class.

He can feel his adrenaline spike and his heart race as he enters the classroom, cigar in hand. His feelings bubbling and reaching a climax as he strips off his trousers with unexpected foolishness. He’s glad that he could at least lie on the table- he doesn’t think his knees are holding up well. He could feel his finger trembling as he raises the cigar to his lips and the clammy sweat on his upper lips as he converses with Timms in that ridiculous accent. And then, the catch in his throat at the knock of the door, Posner standing to open it, the squeak of hinges as the door sweeps open - 

And there he is. Tall, slight, with a bemused smile and semi-formal stance that unfolds as he catches sight of Dakin. Not particularly handsome, but fuck, Dakin has never felt so calm, so sure, in his life. He can see the man tense and relax, his pupils dilating and his fingers twitching in a desperate attempt to reach across the room to touch him. 

Dakin knows he must look a wreck too, if the stunned look on the other man’s face is any indication. But he can’t stop staring because the sweetly alluring way the man ducks his head to collect himself before peering up through his lashes is all Dakin needs. He’s the One, and he’s never felt so right and if he doesn’t stop with all the cliched thoughts and snap out of it, the others are going to think he’s having a fit.

I can’t believe it, is his only dazed thought, too overwhelmed to notice the pointed looks on his classmates are sending his way. Scripps, in particular, is trying to burn a hole at the back of his neck with an ‘I told you so’.

It isn’t love at first sight; it certainly didn't feel like it, but Dakin can’t deny the strong tug of emotions connecting him to the man. This is the equivalent of his world expanding and coalescing into the one fleeting moment in the middle of the classroom, nothing special, but it is everything to him. Today is the day, and it has gone wonderfully.

Pity about the trousers though.

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first fic and I'm pretty nervous about it but I'd appreciate any comments or criticism!


End file.
